Love Undesired
by wolfdiamond
Summary: She tasted the truth on his lips before she felt the knife, thin and sleek and so small that it was hard to believe that it could cause her so much pain. Oneshot.


A/N: I haven't posted anything in a while…. Heh. I've been meaning to re-do The One Thing She Needed, but it's the longest one-shot I've written (painfully embarrassing) and hard to re-write it. Maybe I'm just a slacker. Anyway, I know this title isn't the best, but I put a lot of effort into this story, so please review. :)

A girl ran down a street, her tattered, raggedy clothing flailing. Her eyes were frantic, her actions skittish and jittery. Her boots hit the pavement hard as she navigated herself through the quiet streets that hedged mazes through the abandoned warehouses, and a low, threatening roar echoed throughout the empty area. The girl turned left and ran into a darkened alley.

Another roar rang out, and the girl turned around, anxiously looking behind her as she kept running. Her boot slipped in a puddle, and she fell to the ground, twisting her ankle at an irregular angle, impaling herself on a rusty pipe. A cry escaped her lips before she slammed her hand over it, cutting it short, eyes wide and fearful. Tears trickled down the sides of her face, and for a moment she allowed herself the pain and feeling before she lifted herself off the metal quickly, a low hiss falling from her lips. Her face reformed itself to a hard, emotionless shell, as she ran, limping, through the alley.

A throaty roar ricocheted in the alley, this one much louder and closer. The girl turned down another alley, her bloodied hand clutching her side. Her foot slipped again, and she fell to the ground, biting her lip so that she wouldn't cry out. Blood fell from her mouth, and she wiped it away with a sleeve. She put her hand on a crate and pushed herself up as another husky roar resonated around her, much too loud and much too close. The girl struggled to run, her bloodied hand leaning on the wall, leaving ominously smeared handprints.

She was trying hard to keep her head up, to watch where she was going, but the agonizing pain was forcing her head down. Black dots blotted her vision, fighting for dominance, and she didn't notice the wall blocking her escape until she came to it. She slide down the wall, trailing blood so that she sat, hunched, her arms around her curled up legs. Rage filled her for a moment – how could she have been so stupid? Why couldn't she fight back? Why was it that she couldn't be around him without –?

The echo of footsteps rang around her. Despair filled her. She would die now, soon, as her friends died. She'd betrayed them all for him, abandoning them as she'd thought they'd abandoned her, leaving her miserable and alone, and now, she'd failed them. She suddenly felt that she deserved to die. She turned, slowly, until she was facing him completely, and tried not to be afraid.

He was still as beautiful as before. Pointed ears rose over silver hair that draped down his back, shining in the light of the moon. Sharp features were etched in a pointed face, his skin still fair and clear. Piercing blue eyes, tilted up, looked down at her crumpled form. She felt inadequate compared to his striking beauty. She shouldn't have even cared. It shouldn't have been as important as it was to her.

"Little bird . . . . I've missed you." The words were spoken softly, but she could see the smirk on his face, she could hear the sarcasm in his voice. He crouched down beside her, his long limbs bending. A long-fingered hand reached forward and stroked her cheek, and the girl was disgusted with herself as she let him, as she drew a shaky, lustful gasp, as she didn't stop him, as she realized that she'd hoped he would touch her again like he used to.

"No . . . ." she whispered, not looking at him, and yet knowing that she wanted him.

"Would you rather I kill you?" he asked, his voice deadly and soft, drawing back his hand from her face. Her head moved with it, chasing it back, before the girl realized what she was doing. She slammed her head back against the wall, loathing herself for wanting him.

He tilted his head to the side, his questioning smirk reminding him he had spoken.

"Yes." The single word was barely audible, whispered to the memory of her friend's broken bodies, splayed in irregular angles on the floor of the Tower. She remembered how she'd backed away from them, horrified, and right into him – standing there, cleaning a bloodied sword. He'd smiled. She was seconds away from breaking – a twisting knot in her stomach was being tied tighter every moment, she could barely breathe – and he'd smiled and said, "You're next, little bird."

She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting the clear whistle of his sword to sing before that sharp, fast pain . . . .

Her eyes opened to find him inches away from her face, so that she was forced to look into his eyes. She tried quickly to look away, so that he wouldn't see, so that she wouldn't feel inferior, so that he wouldn't be able to laugh at her like he had when she'd fled the Tower, nearly tripping over Beast Boy's limp form before she ran down the stairs.

But he was quicker. His hand caught her face, but it wasn't gentle; his fingers harshly clutched her jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes, and before she could close her eyes, she was caught in their callously beautiful gaze.

And then, without warning, his lips were on hers, ruthless and demanding, and she opened her mouth without thinking. He was as forceful and powerful as she remembered, but she didn't push him away. She pulled him closer, longing for the way things were before, longing to remember the feel of his body against hers. He seemed surprised at that, but didn't object as she wrapped her arms around his neck, desperately wanting to touch him one last time.

And yet, something in the back of her mind was pounding, thrashing, and protesting. She just wanted to forget, live in the past where people loved her and she'd been happy. It seemed now that joy and peace evaded her; torment and pain was all she felt now, if she let herself. She was so isolated and alone that she'd forgotten what it was like to touch him, feel him writhe pleasurably beneath her . . . .

Her mind still protested the invasion, but it had simmered to a low screaming, growing faint in the back of her mind . . . . Oh, she wanted this so much . . . . She'd longed for him deep inside herself, somewhere she hadn't wanted to go in a long, long time – too much pain, too many memories of the past – but now she embraced the past, forgetting the pain and going to where she would be safe . . . .

But fate was cruel and decided to make her suffer one last wound. She tasted the truth on his lips before she felt the knife, thin and sleek and so small that it was hard to believe that it could cause her so much pain. He broke away from her, and his hand fell from the handle of the knife, protruding from her side, and she could see the cool, glassy look in his eyes as she slammed against the wall and tried to balance herself.

But her expression was not hurt or disbelieving, or fearful or pained. On her lips played a sardonic, longing smile, and her eyes were staring back into his, intentionally this time, and nostalgic joy shone in them as her blood stained the wall and the knife scratched against the wall as she slid down it, landing on a crate with her eyes half open.

She looked up at him. He stared down at her, and she drew a short, painful gasp as he reached brutally tugged the knife from her ribs with one jerk. A cloth appeared in his hand and he wiped the knife clean. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching her hands to the wounds in her ribs, and lifting them limply to him, slim, blood-covered fingers attempting to reach him. He complied, allowing both of her hands to clutch his own and pull him towards her and steal her last kiss from his lips. It was brief, and her hands were at his collar before he could stop her. She leaned forward as far as she could and whispered into his ear, "I still love you."

He didn't expect that, but before he could respond, her neck craned to the sky, she released his collar, and her eyes opened wider as four syllables leapt from her lips to the stars.

Then she closed her eyes and breathed one last breath before her body fell compliantly against the blood-stained wall behind her.

Malchior stood up from where she'd pulled him down and traced her cheekbone with a long finger.

"I'll miss you, Raven."

A/N: So, what do you think? Tell me. :)


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